In The Beginning
by blue-eyed-bird
Summary: Thor and Loki's life prior to the setting of "Thor". The story begins at the end of the war between the Frost Giants and Asgardians, when the All-father brings home a mysterious new arrival to the family of Odin.
1. The Beginning of an End

"**In The Beginning"**

Little Thor slept soundly in his chambers, thoughts of the war against the Frost Giants of Jötunhiem momentarily forgotten at a cause of his deep slumber.

In all honesty, Thor didn't quite yet understand the nature of the war; he only knew that his father was somewhere far away, walking the lands of another realm and fighting creatures Thor could only hope to imagine, for he was barely a child.

His sleeping world was one of peace; something he would forget as he grew up – the desire to fight and to fulfil his role as the firstborn of the All-Father overriding any other want. But, for now, he knew harmony – tucked away from the horror of the now-ending war.

Calming colours and perfect little stars filled the skies of his dreams; there was nothing Thor feared at that point in his childhood. Nothing in all of Asgard could threaten him – his parents knew all too well to safeguard him from the little danger there was.

A gentle shake woke him up as he looked up into the eyes of his mother. Her curled blonde hair sat perfectly atop her head – her blue eyes resonating the happiness it always did. Their features alarmingly alike in so many ways; you could tell Thor was his mother's son.

"Awake, my son." She smiled, flashing a set of brilliant white teeth. "Your father is crossing the Bifröst and returning home any minute now." Her voice was like a symphony; a song in spoken form. "Come, we can meet him on the bridge. I'm sure you'd like to welcome him home."

Thor rose from the bed, rubbed his eyes with balled fists – erasing the sleep that had consumed him for the night.

His little head making sense of the information he had been given. _The war was over. Father was coming home. _"Mother, who won?" He asked - his small, chirpy voice sounded like a morning bird, as he tried to throw on some acceptable clothes whilst hurrying to keep up with his mother, who had begun to retreat from the room.

"Now, child." She called behind her, already a good few metres on the other side of the bedroom door. "Would your father be coming home if he had not defeated the Frost Giants?"

Thor thought for a moment, "No, he would have been victorious." He paused in his wake, reflecting on his words. Then, when the answer finally struck him like the lightning he was so often associated with, he ran out of his golden-plated room, down the corridor and straight into his mother – hugging her legs with all his might. "He won! _He won! _Father _won!_"

A laugh like music itself erupted from between his mother's lips, ricocheting off of the walls and throughout the large hallway in which they stood. "Yes, child." She said softly, lifting him into her arms. "He did indeed win."

Thor wrapped his limbs tightly around his mother, unable to contain his excitement – a large smile of his own appearing on his face, as he let her carry him out of Odin's castle, towards the bridge where he would once again see his father - scarred and bloodied from war.

A crowd had formed before the rainbow bridge which led to the opening of the Bifröst. Dwellers of Asgard – hundreds of them rejoicing in the knowledge that the war against the Frost Giants was over and their King had prevailed.

Roars of "Odin! Odin!" filled the land far and wide as the group of Asgardian warriors emerged from within the golden sphere, which held the key to the Bifröst. Odin led the cluster of warriors, standing at the front of the large faction.

Thor's eyes lit up at the sight of his father. He did not care that one of his father's own eyes was hollowed out and bloody, nor did he take notice of the small child that Odin carried in his arms; his focus was his father and as he broke away from the protective arms of his mother, Thor ran straight at him – face alight with joy.

As the All-father's gaze found Thor, his seemingly impassive face broke out to match that of his son's.

Within seconds, the gap between them on the bridge was closed and Thor had slammed himself into the strong body of Odin.

"Father!" He exclaimed. "You're home!"

Lines of age and laughter appeared deep on the All-father's face. "Yes – I am home. I hope you have been well-behaved for your mother during my time away." False mockery tainted his words.

As they both walked the remaining length of the rainbow bridge, Thor finally noticed the bundle cradled in Odin's arms. "Have you brought us something home, Father?" Thor questioned; his brows furrowed as he pranced along on his tip-toes, trying to get a better look at what his father was holding.

Odin did not meet Thor's gaze. Instead, as they finally came to a stop – standing before Frigga – he handed the bundle over to Thor's mother.

She frowned at the little baby stirring in her arms before lifting her head and giving her husband a questioning look, to which he replied: "Be patient and all will be answered. Take him back to the castle, have him seen to."

Frigga nodded, compliant to her husband's wishes as she turned and retreated from the large crowd of people.

In the midst of everything, Thor had snatched a quick glance of the baby held in his mother's arms. There was a set of dark hair atop its head and it slept peacefully within the material it had been so hastily wrapped in. "Who is he, Father?" He spoke.

Odin looked down on his son, assessing him – although Thor was oblivious as to why. He placed his hand upon his son's shoulder, looking him directly in the eyes before speaking, "His name is Loki, and he is your little brother."

Thor, so young at the time, accepted the fact without any further doubt. He did not think that this baby -who had hair so dark, it could not be his parents' child - was in fact of the realm his father had only just left behind. He truly believed that this small creature, Loki, was his brother.


	2. The Foreshadowing

The light and cheerful giggles of children echoed throughout the hemisphere-shaped room in which Heimdall spent most of his time. He was the gatekeeper, after all. It was his duty to safeguard Asgard for as long as he lived, he stood at his post throughout the light and the dark; every day, every night. He had seen many a thing no man had. He was a quiet creature, but those who are quietest in character are the loudest in mind, the Allfather had once declared. And in Heimdall's case it was true. He would only ever speak when spoken to, but he had the most magnificent of stories to tell.

Thor, his golden hair now shoulder-length and thoughts of the war against the Frost Giants now long forgotten, sat entranced beside his younger brother - who had barely started to learn the mastery of walking – as Heimdall told the end of another of his many stories, with a smile.

Heimdall relished the time in which Thor and tiny Loki spent at the gate of the Bifröst. It was the one time when he was asked to speak in a manner of leisure and not when responding to given orders. He enjoyed the ease and comfort it gave him and he loved how he could just relax into the words and become enraptured by his own story. He loved the freeness of it all.

"Tell it again, Heimdall! Again!" Thor exclaimed, almost rising to his feet with excitement as Loki squealed with happiness beside his brother, his chubby fists clapping together in encouragement – despite not being able to understand the most of what was going on.

The boom of Heimdall's laughter resonated throughout the golden half-sphere. "Perhaps tomorrow, young Prince." He smiled at Thor's disappointment. "Your little brother is somewhat tired from all the storytelling, I see." He nodded towards Loki, who was now rubbing his eyes ferociously; his little mouth widening into a large 'o' shape, as a tired sigh escaped his lips.

Thor's expression immediately changed into one of brotherly adoration and his youthful face creased up in mirth, as Loki's small body fell back against the floor, too tired to hold his own weight. "Oh, Loki, come here you silly fool." Thor knelt down to pick the toddler up, stroking his ever-growing dark hair away from his face.

Even so young as he was, Thor's strength was developing with such intensity with each passing day, allowing him to easily carry the weight of his brother. His bodily structure would mirror that of a Midgardian of seven years, only Thor had a hidden force that would gift him with the potential to exceed any one of his age or structure; being Asgardian-born, he would be greater in strength than any being of a lesser realm.

Loki curled up to his older brother's chest, tired and weary; images of Heimdall's story world floating around in his mind.

"Until tomorrow, Heimdall." Thor nodded a goodbye to the gatekeeper, turning to leave with Loki clasped tightly in his arms.

"Tomorrow." Heimdall repeated, wondering when the promise of tomorrow - another eve of stories and adventures – would be no more. He feared the day when both Thor and Loki would be too old for stories and the fabricated world of imagination. Old enough to venture into different realms and become part of a story themselves. The brow upon his forehead creased as he spoke – his words stopping Thor in his path along the bridge: "One day, young Prince, you shall be a great warrior yourself. A man of honour, no doubt." And with that, Heimdall retreated back to his usual post, thoughts of stories evaporated – replaced by the need to fulfil his usual responsibility of protecting Asgard.

"Did you hear that, Loki?" Thor whispered to his brother, who was so close to falling asleep. "One day, we'll be warriors! Just like the ones Heimdall tells us about." He said, lightly placing a kiss upon his brother's head.

Loki clenched onto one of Thor's fingers and squeezed, the only response his weary self could form.

But Thor had misunderstood; Heimdall had never mentioned Loki. No, Heimdall had only ever said the statement in reference to Thor.

The water, so icily cold, gave off a frosty steam against the temperature of the room with a sickly flowery scent, one much like Frigga carried on her skin. The tub was golden plated, adorned with a few gems, which glittered in the light. Frigga approached the bath, dressed in a billowing bed gown of soft fabric, Loki in her arms.

He was growing so quickly, she thought as she gazed at him. It'd been such a long stretch of time since they had first welcomed him into the family as their own; as an Odinson. Frigga hadn't been so sure about the boy of foreign blood at first, but she had grown to love him – accepted him as her own. Odin had told her that his sole purpose in taking the boy was in the hope that the small child would be able to restore some form of peace between the Frost Giants of Jötunheim and the people of Asgard, but he had become more than that. He was their son, just as Thor was. The little boy of Jötun blood had shown no ferocity as the Frost Giants would usually – no, he was a boy of innocence and full of love and both Frigga and Odin would do as much as they could to keep him that way.

"I spoke with Heimdall today," Frigga said softly, feeling Odin's presence feel the room. She dare not turn; she did not want to witness his reaction to what she was about to say; she did not want to see the reproving tint in her husband's eyes. "He spoke of how he tells both Thor and Loki tales of great warriors and the quests they embark on." She paused, hearing nothing but Odin's silence coax her on as she gently let Loki down and into the bath water, patches of his skin turning a Jötun blue. "This was after Thor had returned to his chambers for the night, speaking of how Heimdall had told him that Thor and Loki would be great warriors themselves, one day. I took it upon myself to personally visit Heimdall and thank him for keeping our sons occupied each evening and for expanding their imaginations with such intricately crafted stories of his past. I repeated the fact that Thor had been full of such joy when he had returned to the castle – to his chambers – due to Heimdall telling the boys they would surely become famed through being such legendary warriors... And...do you know what he said?" Her voice was but a whisper, as she heard her husband's footsteps – signalling his approach as she stayed kneeling by the tub, bathing little Loki.

"What did he say, my dear?" Odin asked, as if on cue.

"Heimdall said..." Frigga swallowed. "He said that he never mentioned that Loki were to be a great warrior, only Thor. There are whispers in the fissures between the nine realms...they told Heimdall vaguely of Thor's future but when Heimdall listened to any word of Loki, they said his future is uncertain."

The Allfather crouched beside her, wrapping an arm around her small frame as she struggled to carry on washing the child before her, her arms shaking with doubt. Odin's answer came disguised behind a cryptic veil as he looked at his adopted son, "His fate is settled, my love. We can only influence destiny. But for now, Loki is our son and we are his family." His words were tainted with a heavy foreshadowing, as though he could hear the whispers that resided between each realm – as though they had more to say to him than they had for Heimdall. "He will be great in his own right." The Allfather's voice held a great sadness, as he laid his hand upon little Loki's dark, wet hair. "And people will kneel before him. But all in due course; for now, he is but an innocent child."

Frigga nodded, regaining some sort of peace of mind, her worry momentarily dispersed. "Though whatever comes to be," She began, "our Loki will have a choice when his path plays out before him, Laufey's son or not. He still has a choice. Evil is not passed on by blood."

Odin's next words shook her soul, "Sometimes there is no choice and fate has its own way."


End file.
